


Permanent

by impossiblepluto



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Gen, it's not a happy ending but it's a hopeful one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossiblepluto/pseuds/impossiblepluto
Summary: "Please don't leave." The voice is more broken than Jack's ever heard it.It's an angsty, emotional look at how Jack's departure could go. It's not a happy ending, but it's a hopeful one. One that leaves room to write Jack into every future episode





	Permanent

**Author's Note:**

> You can pry Jack Dalton from my cold dead fingers.  
> (you may recognize a quote from Leverage)

It's hazy.

Disjointed. A dream... a memory. A mission. Foggy and incomplete.

A downtown high rise taken over by a militant group. Each floor wired to explode, and hundreds of lives on the line.

"You do your thing, kid," Jack told him. "I'll handle the rest."

His own hands twisting wires. They're shaking. He's sure they weren't shaking in the moment.

Jack's running commentary through the comms as he dispatches the bad guys. "Oh man, where do they keep getting these second rate thugs, Mac?"

His snarky banter, making fun of the mercs. "If I'm not honest about your shortcomings, you can't improve." Then the sound of crumpling cartilage.

Die hard references, because, of course. "Just a fly in the ointment, pal."

Jack is quick, efficient.

"You want to hurry this up a little bit?" Jack ask, returning to Mac. "I took out all my guys, and you're still struggling with one little bomb?"

Mac raises an eyebrow. "Sure, one little bomb. It's just wired to every floor in the building."

"Maybe you're slowing down in your old age," Jack teases.

Glass shatters. Jack yells. There's a blur of moment and suddenly Mac is flying sideways. His head bounces against the tile floor. He hears a cry of pain that doesn't sounds like his own.

There's something in the back of Mac's mind that is screaming for him to Get. Up. That his world is about to spin out of control again if he doesn't open his eyes this instant.

An antiseptic smell makes his nose twitch. His body aches too much to be waking in his own bed. He can hear drawling, whispered words. Muffled; worried. The tension in the room is high, and while he can't remember what happened he doesn't feel badly enough that this worry should be directed towards him.

"You're sure, Dalton?"

It's a voice he recognizes, but feels uncomfortable with it being so close, especially when he's lying here, vulnerable.

"Yes, sir."

Jack. That's Jack. It will be okay. Jack will take care of things. Jack will watch out for him. The voice is strong as ever, but even in his addled state Mac knows something's wrong. He should open his eyes. Maybe Jack needs help.

"We'll take care of it then." The first voice again. He should be able to give it a name, but he can't. Or doesn't want to. Or doesn't know what to call it. "The Phoenix will cover all the costs, and the severance package will be generous. We can arrange transportation this afternoon."

"I'm gonna need a couple of days, sir. I need to make sure the kid gets home alright. And I need to tell him this myself."

The tension rises in the room. "Every day you wait, the risk for permanent injury increases. You can call him later, if you need to. Angus will understand."

"I don't feel right just disappearing on him." There's a challenge in those words.

Silence reigns in the room. Neither man says anything. A few moments later angry footsteps stalk across the floor and the door swings shut.

Mac doesn't move. He feels like his heart has stopped beating. There's a rustling sounds near Mac's head. A hand cards through his hair.

"You waking up, bud?" A pause, waiting to see if Mac will stir. "Alright. When you're ready. No reason to rush this."

* * *

Mac is gone.

He didn't check himself out of medical, rather put on his clothes, which they should know better than to keep in the room. Removed his own IV, which if they didn't want him to they should have maybe wrapped it better. And just walked out the front door. Or the back door. Does it really matter which door? If they didn't want people using it they should have an alarm. Not that it would stop Mac, but still it would slow him down. Sort of. At least the first time.

Finding Mac wasn't hard. He'd taken his phone with him. If he'd wanted to disappear he could have.

Jack finds him sitting in the grass. Eyes closed. His head leaning back against rough stone.

Mac doesn't know why he chose this place. Maybe because Jack always came here when he needed to clear his head and maybe Mac needed to find that peace that Jack always came back with after a visit to Jack Sr.

He doesn't so much as flinch as Jack approaches him. He's not ignoring the man. But if he opens his eyes, he'll have to acknowledge that the moment which has been looming, that Mac has skillfully avoided, ignored and pushed aside until now, will be here.

And he doesn't want to.

He clenches his jaw and wills the tears back, but they're trying to sneak between closed lids.

Jack doesn't say anything. He stands there; his shadow falling over Mac. Watching his friend struggle, but there aren't words that can make this any easier.

Jack kisses his fist and rests it on the headstone. He turns slowly towards Mac, then slides slowly down to sit next to him.

"Don't." The word is choked. Mac wanted it to be hard, forceful. Instead it cracks in the middle, and is nearly swallowed at the end.

"Okay," and it's softer than Mac's ever heard Jack's voice.

Mac pushes his lips together firmly, feeling the pressure build. He's choking and suffocating but if he opens his mouth he doesn't know what will come out. He's not going to break down.

It's Jack's hand on the back of his neck that's his undoing. A tiny squeeze of Jack's hand meant to convey comfort and reassurance. A shuddering sob escapes. And then another. And if he doesn't find a way to hold them in, right now, Mac worries they'll never stop. He shakes his head and tries to suck in a breath around the lump in his throat, but it gets stuck halfway.

"Breathe, Mac."

And the floodgates open.

Mac crashes against Jack's good shoulder. His whole body trembling, chest heaving with silent strangled sobs. Breathless, gasping words pour from Mac, muffled against Jack's neck. It takes Jack a minute to realize it's the same phrase repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Hey. Hey." Jack's hand rubs Mac's back, then comes up to cradle the back of Mac's head. He whispers quiet words into Mac's ear. "You got nothing to be sorry for."

"It's my fault."

"Never."

"I should have been faster. I should have--" Mac is panting, his diaphragm spasms, deep and aching. He can't catch his breath. He feels like he might actually suffocate.

"Come on, Mac, breathe." Jack fights back tears of his own.

Mac struggles; Jack holds him tighter. Jack's hand cards through Mac's hair.

"It's not your fault," Jack whispers.

"It should have been me. If I'd been paying more attention. You shouldn't have had to--"

"You really did scramble your brain," Jack interrupts with a growl. "You listen to me, Angus. It doesn't matter what it costs. I will always protect you. This is nothing. I would do this again in a heartbeat if it meant that you were safe."

Jack pauses, struggling to regain his composure. "What kills me now, is that I can't watch your back. That I'm going to have to give that responsibility over to someone else."

"I don't want anyone else."

"Tough. Because I'm going to handpick the toughest badass I can find, who will think nothing of picking you up and carrying you out of danger kicking and screaming, if he has to. And will report directly to me whenever you do something stupid so that I can kick his ass for letting you and then yours for making me worry."

Mac lets out a sound between a laugh and a sob.

He pulls back from Jack's one armed embrace, resting against the cold stone behind him again.

"Please don't leave." The voice is more broken than Jack's ever heard it.

"I have to. For a while. But don't think you're getting rid of me that easily, cause I'm going to be checking up on you all the time. And I know I can get Bozer to snitch on you. And I can probably get Riley to bug your house so I can keep an eye on you. And if you need me, for anything, hoss, I'll be there."

"It's just all going to change."

"Yeah," Jack swallows hard. "Yeah, a lot of stuff is, bud. But you and me, nothing about that is ever going to change. This is permanent."

A breeze ruffles Mac's hair, cooling his overheated face, drying the tears.

"I could come with you."

"What are you going to do? Sit around for a year or more hoping that maybe I get some range of motion back in this arm?" He gestures toward the arm strapped tightly to his chest.

"It's what you would do."

"Yeah, but that's different. Jack without Mac is just a dime a dozen ex-special forces muscle. Mac without Jack can still save the world."

"No," Mac breathes out. "I don't want to anymore."

"You know you're not done yet."

"I could be. I could retire too. We could both go back to Texas. The rehab facility isn't far from the ranch. We could go there on weekends."

"You'd be bored in two minutes flat. I'm not doing that to you," Jack says gently.

Mac sniffs. "I could adapt."

"Give me a year," Jack bargains. "Let me do the surgeries, and the rehab and see what kind of function I can get back in this arm. You do your thing. Save the day with a paperclip and chewing gum. Come visit me on your weekends off. After a year we'll talk about what's next."

Mac sniffs again, nodding slowly.

"Mac," Jack reaches over and places his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I would do anything for you. And going away is the hardest thing I have ever done. But I am not leaving you. I am not abandoning you. I never could. Not back all those years ago in the Sandbox. Not now. Not ever."


End file.
